Story Time at the Grissoms
by Lolly4Holly
Summary: Story time at the Grissom household. Instead of sleeping, the Grissom kids indulge in a story about their parents. Grissom & Sara. GSR. One-Shot. COMPLETE


**Story Time at the Grissoms**

**One-Shot**

**Author: Lolly4Holly**

**Pairings: GSR - Sara and Grissom**

**Summary: Story time at the Grissom household. GSR.**

**I wrote this little one shot in the space of an hour, waiting for my apple crumble to cook. Please let me know what you think, thanks so much for reading. Have a great weekend!**

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"It all started on a stormy night. Las Vegas had been hit with a storm that knocked out the power for the entire city. The lab technicians at the Las Vegas Crime Lab were working under the low light of the backup generators. The race was on to catch a murderer who had already struck twice the night before, with a message that he wasn't done yet. Everyone was on edge, trying to find some form of pattern between the first and second murder. Crime scene investigators, Stokes and Sidle were the only two left out in the field, tidying up the last crime scene in hopes of finding something that would break the case."

"I thought this was supposed to be how Mommy and Daddy fell in love?"

"Shhhh!" The story teller hissed at her younger sister, clearing her throat, before she continued with the tale. "Anyway, CSI's Stokes and Sidle didn't know it yet, but they were being watched by the very murderer that they were looking for. Completely oblivious to their imminent danger, they continued with their work by flashlight as the lightning continued to flicker outside. They both knew that they had to do everything they could, fearing that their murderer would stay true to his word and claim another victim to the depths."

"That's too many long words." Her younger sister interrupted her again, ducking under her covers as her sister suddenly lunged a pillow in her direction. "Stop it, I'll tell Daddy on you!"

"Stop interrupting me while I'm trying to tell the story then." Sweeping her long hair over her shoulder, she took in a deep breath, continuing with her story, "Back at the lab, the graveyard shift supervisor stumbled upon a familiar figure in one of his crime scene photos. He narrowed his magnifying glass over the face, trying to get a clearer image, but the rain on the lens of the camera had made it hard to distinguish faces in the distance. He frantically searched through the other photos of the public outside of the crime scene, before he took them through to the lab to get them enhanced. With the power from the backup generator running low though, they barely had enough electricity to keep the lights on, so he had to make do with a flashlight and a bigger magnifying glass, comparing the faces to their backup files of known convicted felons."

"What's a convicted felon?" She clung to her covers over her chest as her sister shot her another angry look. "Where's Mommy and Daddy in this story anyway?"

"If you shut up for five minutes, you'd get to hear that part." She snapped at her. "After hours of rifling through image after image, the lab supervisor stumbled upon the familiar face he had been looking for. A cold case that they were told to drop by the District Attorney after a lack of evidence got their whole case thrown out of court. He bolted straight to their files and records room, pulling out the old box of evidence from their vault. He scanned every detail of the old case, feeling his heart pounding to the surface of his chest as the case was so similar to the two they were dealing with at the moment. He had sworn to the family of the first victim that he wouldn't let this go and now was his chance to settle the score."

"I don't really like this story." Her younger sister whispered as she paused for a moment.

"With the new evidence in his hands, the lab supervisor realised that his colleagues out in the field were in danger. If this suspect was truly the one he was after, a man known to return to his previous crime scenes and take the life of one of their own in a previous case, than Stokes and Sidle needed to be warned." The older girl perched herself on the edge of her bed, keeping her voice down as she got to the action part of her story. "Racing down the stairs to his car, the lab supervisor immediately set off, fearing the worst. It was an eerie drive off to the crime scene in the blacked out city, but he didn't let that dissuade him from the task of saving his colleagues. He arrived at the scene within a few minutes, finding CSI Stokes passed out on the living room floor with blood seeping from a wound on his forehead. He wanted to get him out of there and get him the help he needed, but he needed to know if Sidle was still there. He was supposed to carry a gun as part of his CSI uniform, but he never liked to use it. CSI Stokes' holster was still intact with his weapon inside, so he took his gun in his shaky hand, dreading the thought of using it on another human being. Even if that person didn't deserve to be part of the human race."

The older girl slid herself back into her bed as they heard a creak in the hallway, remaining silent for a moment, until she was sure they were gone.

"One step at a time, the lab supervisor cautiously made his way through the darkened house. The floorboards creaked beneath his feet and a cold wind blew in through the open windows, sending a chill down his spine. He found no sign of CSI Sidle on the first floor of the house, so he slowly made his way upstairs, hearing whistled breathing coming from one of the rooms. With the gun out in front of him,"

She demonstrated by pointing her arms up in the air, mimicking the man's actions.

"He took one step at a time towards the slightly ajar door, feeling his heart pounding in his throat as the whistled breathing became clearer and a little louder. He held in his own breath until he was right at the door, preparing himself for the worst as he lifted his foot off the floor, slowly bringing it towards the door. Whack!" She suddenly shouted, making her younger sister jump in her bed. "He kicked the door open with his foot, quickly marching inside. He felt relieved to see CSI Sidle inside, but the suspect was too and he was holding a knife to her throat. He demanded that he let her go, but the man only held her tighter, digging the edge of the blade into the side of her neck. The supervisor saw a trickle of blood running down the blade, realising he had to act fast. He still had the gun raised out in front of him, but he feared that any attempt to shoot the suspect would only end up hurting, CSI Sidle."

"Charlotte!" Her father's voice suddenly called up the stairs to her. "No more talking, you're supposed to be sleeping."

"Okay!" Charlotte called back to him, waiting a few minutes for him to get back to what he was doing, before she slid out of her bed. She scurried across the room to the next bed, slipping under the covers beside her younger sister. "Trying to reason with the man seemed pointless at this point, so he decided to act as though he was surrendering. He lowered the gun to the floor, raising his hands either side of him to show the suspect that he wasn't armed with any other weapons. He tried to offer a trade, himself for Sidle. He knew how much the suspect wanted to see him harmed after he nearly got him locked up for life the first time, but the man wanted nothing more than to see him squirm."

Her younger sister rolled over onto her side in the bed, listening intently to the last part.

"After years of working together, CSI Sidle and the lab supervisor had their own secret codes or looks for exactly these kinds of situations. They managed to communicate to each other without the suspect catching on. As soon as the lab supervisor gave the right signal, Sidle forced her elbow back into the suspect ribs, catching him off guard. She rolled herself out of the way, the same time her supervisor lunged for the weapon he had dropped within grabbing distance. He raised the weapon just as the man with the knife was grabbing for Sidle again, wasting no time in pulling the trigger now he had a clear shot. Bang!" She enthusiastically shouted, dropping her head to her sister's pillow. "He shot him square in the forehead, splattering his brains against the wall."

"Ew..." Her little sister cringed, clutching her covers tightly.

"Charlotte, I won't tell you again." Her father hurried up the stairs, opening the girls bedroom door just as his eldest daughter dove into her bed across the room. "I saw that." He made his way over to her bed, tickling the little monster out from under her covers. "You're supposed to be sleeping."

"I don't want to sleep. I want to wait for Mommy to get back." Charlotte informed him, sitting herself up under the covers. "I can't sleep without Mommy here."

"Me too." A little voice across the room added.

"You're up too are you?" Their father sighed softly, wishing they would go to sleep on time once while they were in his care. It used to be easier when they were baby's, but they were growing fast and never wanted to sleep for him anymore. "Do you know how mad Mommy's gonna be with me if the two of you are still wide awake when she gets back?"

"I can't sleep, I'm too scared." His youngest spoke softly, shifting aside on her bed as her father sat down beside her. "I don't want Mommy to get shot."

"Mommy isn't going to get shot, Abs." He stroked her delicate curls behind her ear, looking into her eyes that reminded him so much of their mother's. "You don't have to be scared for Mommy, she's a strong lady. No one messes with Mommy." He smiled at her, pressing a kiss to her little forehead. "And you, young lady." He turned his attention back to his eldest. "Stop filling your sister's head with your stories."

"Does that mean it wasn't true?" Abigail asked her father.

"It was, I read it." Charlotte protested, catching her father turning his attention towards their bedroom door. She heard the familiar jangle of keys too, quickly sliding herself out from under her covers. Before her father could stop her, she hurried down the stairs, greeting her mother with a hug the second she came through the door.

"Mommy!" Abigail clambered down the stairs in front of her father, jumping into her mother's arms off the bottom step. She rested her little head against the woman's shoulder, running her curious little fingertips across the tiny scar on her mother's neck. She looked down at her sister beside her, realising that her story was true and their parents were the main characters in the tale.

"Gil, it's ten thirty." She scolded her husband, holding her tired little girls tightly. "They're supposed to be in bed by seven."

"Believe me, Sara, I have tried." Gil lifted his eldest daughter, Charlotte from his wife's side, playfully tickling her side. "I think this little madam has something to do with it again though. Sounds like she's been reading your journals again and telling the stories to Abigail."

The little girl immediately blushed, hiding her face away in her father's shoulder.

"Told you there would be consequences once she learnt to read." His wife giggled softly, pressing a kiss her daughter's head. "C'mon then, we better get you two off to bed. Since Daddy is incapable of doing it by himself." She teased him, dropping her bag by the door, making her way up to their room first. She lay her four year old down in her bed first, sweeping her little legs under the covers, so she could tuck her in.

"Mommy, did Daddy really shoot a man to save you?" She asked her mother as the woman perched herself on the edge of her bed.

Sara glanced towards her daughter behind her, realising she was going to have to find a new hiding place for all her journals. They had already had a little mishap with her daughter taking one into school that explained in great detail her Uncle Nick's kidnapping and vacation six feet underground with fire ants. She'd have to keep them under lock and key from now on, stopping her curious eight year old daughter from learning things she shouldn't so early on. "Daddy was just doing his job." She finally told her little girl.

"Charlie told me Daddy blew his brains out." Abigail informed her."Is that true? Did he?"

"I most certainly did not." Her father protested, placing his hands on his wife's shoulders as he looked down at his little girl on the bed. "I clipped his shoulder to protect your mother. I had already called medics for your Uncle Nick, so they arrived just in time to stop the bleeding to his shoulder."

"Where is he now?" Charlotte made her way over to them, climbing out of her bed again. "How do we know he won't come back?"

"Because he's in jail." Her mother assured her, brushing a stray tendril of her daughter's hair back behind her ear. "He can't hurt anybody else anymore. He's behind bars, so we're safe. Besides, we don't even live in Las Vegas anymore. After you were born, Daddy and I moved away to be closer to Grandma Betty and away from the noisy city," She climbed to her feet, leading her daughter back to her bed against the wall. "So you can sleep at night." She pointed out to her, tucking the covers around her to keep her warm. She pressed a kiss to her daughter's head as soon as she was all tucked up, warning her, "You're gonna be exhausted tomorrow if you don't go to sleep now."

"I need a hug from Daddy first."

Sara smiled at her, ushering her husband over, while she re-kissed her youngest goodnight. She waited at the door for her husband to kiss and cuddle each of his daughter's again, before she switched the light off.

"Goodnight!" She pulled the door shut behind her, following her husband through to their bedroom just down the hall from the girls. "I don't know how she keeps finding these." Reaching on top of their wardrobe for the old shoe box, Sara emptied the photos of the lab crew out onto the bed, before she pulled out her old journals. "She must climb on your desk to get them up there. Do you think she's read them all?" She took a seat on the bed, flipping through the pages of her memories. There were a few stories in there that she didn't want her daughter to read about, but there was no telling how much of it she had actually read or how much the stories had already damaged her delicate little mind. She moved her family away so they could have a better life than what she had as a child. Allowing her daughter to read about true stories of murders, kidnappings and brutal attacks wasn't the sort of life that she wanted for her.

"She probably doesn't understand that these things actually happened." Her husband tried to put her mind at ease. "She might not understand it all either. She is only eight, Sara. She's a bright little girl, but she is still a little girl, and she's always liked telling stories. Perhaps we should think about getting her some crime novels to read, rather than your journals."

"Do you think she'll be a criminologist like us when she's older?"

"I think we might have a future journalist or crime novelist on our hands."


End file.
